


The Sticks

by Clericish



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Canon, can be interpreted as pegoryu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clericish/pseuds/Clericish
Summary: Ryuji can't sleep.  Good thing Akira can't, either.





	The Sticks

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the song of the same name by Mother Mother.

In the moments leading up to Joker’s awakening, Ryuji had been scared. Not just scared, downright _terrified._

He had mused on that fear on the way home, still shaking from the adrenaline of whatever the hell had just happened in that mysterious castle, and mused on it now, two years later, as he stared up at the ceiling above him. His thief garments had been left behind after the fall of Yaldabaoth-- his life of heroism and justice-- and even to this day Ryuji had to wonder what his life would have been like had he never dawned his mask and pipe.

Maybe he’d have dropped out of Shuujin. Or been expelled for another stupid stunt.

Maybe he’d have never changed, and remained that same disgraced track team star. Maybe he’d have still been hung up on the injustices placed upon him by a man who inflicted pain in a flurry of pride. Maybe Kamoshida would have never been stopped,maybe Ann would have ended up just like Shiho, maybe--

His head hurt. This was all over now, so why was he overcomplicating things that had passed? Ryuji groaned, turning over on his futon and rubbing his eyes with his palms until he saw stars. The dark room was only dimly illuminated by the slots in the blinds as cars zoomed by, blazing and flaring out in a quick, insignificant streak of glory that reflected on Ryuji’s whitewashed walls. Impermanent, easy to miss. Ryuji yawned, wishing he could just turn off his brain and fall asleep, drift away from the cobwebs once again stirring in his brain.

Why had he been so scared?

He wasn’t scared as he dashed across the deck of Shido’s sinking ship.

He wasn’t scared of Kamoshida when he ruined his track career.

He wasn’t even scared of his father when he had launched a glass at his head and dipped the next morning.

Why had he been _terrified_ that his life would come to an end right there, in the damp cell of Kamoshida’s palace? Ryuji had always considered himself a risk-taker, a boy who wasn’t scared of pain or dying, of figuring out what would come next after his consciousness had drifted away for good. The thought of death had been comforting for him, in a way. To think that nothing would matter one day, that everyone ended up in the ground one day and there was nothing left to feel anymore. Nothing left to regret anymore.

Sometimes, Ryuji missed the power that came with being a thief. The feeling of being powerful, of being able to steer his own ship. If he focused, sometimes, he could still hear Captain Kidd’s grumbling tone giving words of encouragement, of wisdom. Ryuji felt weird for genuinely missing his persona, but as much as the other thieves insisted their personas would always be a part of them, Ryuji missed the feeling of _resonating_ with him. Of being able to swing his pipe and knock through shadows, through rotten beings that made Ryuji feel like he was in control for the first time in his entire life.

His phone buzzed near his ear, and instantly Ryuji picked it up and unlocked the screen. It was Akira. Ryuji blinked once, then twice, rubbing his eyes to make sure he was reading correctly. None of the thieves typically texted outside of the group chat, and certainly not at one in the morning. Not that the attention was unwelcome, but since the Thieves had gone their separate ways after graduation and their locations not nearly as close, one-on-one conversations were scarce.

_Akira: i’m gonna be in tokyo tomorrow, you down for lunch?_

Ryuji furrowed his brows but responded back, quick as could be.

_You: sure man! why are you comin out to tokyo?_

Akira took a moments typing, the tiny chat bubble appearing and disappearing as Akira typed and erased his messages. Finally, after a moment, he sent back a simple text:

_Akira: homesick._

_You: for tokyo?_

_Akira: no._

_Akira: well, yeah, but no._

_Akira: i miss the thieves._

Akira was being nostalgic. Figures they would be thinking about the same things.

_You: wanna talk abt it?_

Ryuji didn’t receive a response, but a few minutes later his phone was ringing and filling the stagnant, late-night air.

 _”Hey,”_ Akira grumbled into the receiver, exhaustion thick in his voice.

”Hey man, you doin’ okay?” Ryuji furrowed his brow. The cicadas from the small, rural town were so loud that Ryuji could hear the whispers of their cries through Akira’s phone. How the hell does he get any sleep like that?

_”Yeah. Just feeling weird.”_

”Why didja call _me?”_ Ryuji asked curiously, hoping that his tone didn’t come off as accusatory. He had never been the best at moderating his tone in the past.

_”Dunno. Well, like, I know. But it’s stupid…”_

”Doubt it,” Ryuji said bluntly, “S’not stupid if it’s buggin’ you, dude.”

Akira was silent for a long moment, and Ryuji could practically see the look on his face; solid as concrete, but he was probably doing the, “overthinking Akira,” face where he would slightly, just _slightly_ worry his bottom lip. It had taken Ryuji a long time to pick up on Akira’s cues-- the guy was, like, superhuman at keeping a straight face-- but now that he had learned those signs he could picture it clear as day. His heart hurt for a moment, and he wished he could see it in person. It was no secret that Akira was special to him; a dear, die-for-you friend that had saved Ryuji from a miserable high school career. All the thieves had a special place in his heart, and Akira seemed to linger in the very center of that unit, thrumming like a snare drum in time with every beat.

 _”It was you, first. With the Metaverse, I mean.”_ Akira had practically rushed it out, like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough, _”You were there with me, the first time we were there. The first time I was actually awoken. And every palace after that. It was always you, and I feel like we’re bonded over that…? And I’m missing what we used to be, and you were the one I experienced that with for the first time. It’s hard to explain, really,”_ Akira paused paused, _“Sorry if that’s weird, but I feel like you’d be the first to understand.”_

Akira gave Ryuji too much credit, but damn if Ryuji wasn’t thinking the same thing. “Nah, dude, I feel the same way. We almost died together without having a fighting chance, y’know? It’s crazy.”

Akira breathed a sigh of relief-- Ryuji had responded with the right thing, apparently. Another pause.

_”Do you ever think about it? Like, the first time we went into the Metaverse?”_

Ryuji let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair. God, Akira and him had some kind of psychic link or something.

”Was just thinkin’ about it, actually. Like it just happened.”

Akira parroted him, giving his own laugh. _”Weird. Maybe it’s something in the air, then. Should I call the others and see what they think?”_

”I mean, if you wanna--”

 _”I’m joking, Ryuji. I wanna talk to you, right now.”_ Something warm stirred in Ryuji’s chest at that, bringing a genuine smile to his face. The conversation petered off again, leaving the pair in a comfortable silence. For someone who wanted to talk to him, Akira certainly didn’t have much to say.

 _”What were you thinking about?”_ Akira questioned.

”Nothin’ really, just stupid stuff,” Ryuji grumbled back, running a hand through his hair.

 _”Hey, I thought, ‘it’s not stupid if it’s buggin’ you,’”_ Akira quipped, doing a poor impression of Ryuji on the other end. Ryuji couldn’t hold back a snort at that, flopping back onto his back.

”It’s just… Before then, I wasn’t scared of anythin’. Even when I felt powerless, I was just _angry._ But then Kamoshida had me against a wall and I thought he was gonna kill me. And suddenly I was terrified. I mean, it’s not like I _wanted_ to die or anythin’ like that, but... Ma always said I was a fighter,” Ryuji could feel something icky stirring in his chest, “I guess it was just dumb that I was actually scared. I dunno, it’s weird.”

 _”I don’t think it’s weird,”_ Akira replied, voice low and serious in a way that Ryuji hadn’t heard since his time as their leader, _”I was scared, too. I think it was because no one would have cared. I was just some new kid who got in trouble. I mean, my parents would have cared, but… I didn’t want to go out like that.”_

Ryuji could feel that feeling in his chest weighing heavier, like a stone crushing his lungs. “Dude… I think I get it. Like, I was scared because if I died, I would never have gotten to know you or the others. And I woulda just died that same kid who screwed over the track team.” Ryuji could feel the beginnings of tears pricking at his eyes, trying desperately to swallow the lump growing in his throat. What was it about late nights that always made him so sad?

Another car rushed past, illuminating the room again for a brief second. Silence stretched out.

”I would’ve never loved myself,” Ryuji said finally, voice cracking on the last syllable. Shit, he was definitely going to cry now. “I would’ve never been able to change. I’d have just been another shitty kid with an attitude problem that bit off more than he could chew.”

_”You weren’t some shitty kid--”_

”But that’s what it woulda looked like, dude. And that’s what I thought I was, too.” Ryuji could feel his cheeks grow hot, wiping at the wetness that had gathered there. “Now I’m effin’ crying even though it’s been years.”

 _”Did you cry about it back then?”_ Akira sounded oddly choked on his end of the line too, and how silly was it to have two damn adults crying on the phone?

”God, no,” Ryuji admitted, laughing wryly, “I mean, I did, but it’s not like it meant that then. Or, that I understood then… Shit, it’s too complicated. I shouldn’t be worrying about it. It’s stupid.” What was he supposed to say? That he had been scared to fizzle out the same shitty loser that he was back then but couldn’t even piece that together at the time? That ever since his father had told him that he shouldn’t cry-- _couldn’t_ cry-- he had felt hot shame every single time he slipped up. Even now, miles away from where he had been, guilt gnawed at his gut. He should be past this, regardless--

 _”What kind of backwards shit is that?”_ Akira deadpanned, _”Ryuji, you deserve to cry. You deserve to feel however the hell you want. And if you want to cry, you should cry. It took me awhile to learn it, but sorrow doesn’t have a starting price. You don’t have to earn rights to be sad.”_

Ryuji knew that, realistically. Knew that what he had been put through by his father, by Kamoshida, by a school system that abandoned him was all bullshit. That he had been dealt a hand that would serve to ultimately whittle him down to nothing, a hand that he had turned around against all odds and played to his favor. Something that changed from horrifying to transformative, all because Ryuji had stood up and taken matters into his own hands. Something he should be _proud of._ A tide-- an entire goddamn ocean-- that had been turned by willpower and strength and _love._ Love, over everything. For others, for himself, for the future he could finally see through the murky water.

Ryuji couldn’t hold back a sob then, the feeling of it ripping from his chest not unlike a band-aid. It felt good, to let go. To let himself feel without fear. Without thinking less of himself, because he had come way too far for that. Way too far to think so poorly of himself when that was all he had done for so long.

”I didn’t think I’d graduate, dude,” Ryuji managed, trying hard to compose himself, “I thought I’d be alone. But I have friends. And a job. And a place to live that I got myself. I made it. _We_ made it.”

 _”Yeah, we did,”_ Akira’s smile could be heard through the phone, _”I think younger me would have been proud of me.”_

”Me too.”

Seconds stretched to minutes, stretched to longer and longer still, until Ryuji had lost track of how long they’d been sniffling back and forth to each other on the phone. It was cathartic, opening up to Akira for the upteenth time and being treated like someone worth loving. God, Ryuji really loved him. Like a forever friend, like a piece of his heart had escaped from its confines in the form of a stranger that had swept him up like debris on the ocean shore. And what a wonderful tide it was.

”Thanks, Akira,” Ryuji finally croaked out, voice rough and hoarse, “You’re the best, you know that?”

 _”You flatter me,”_ Akira retorted, _”But I guess it’s only fair that you’re the best, too.”_

”Man…” Ryuji replied lamely, embarrassed by the flattery. Akira turning his words on him yet again. “Dude, it’s late now. You should probably go to bed.”

_”You sound like Morgana.”_

”’Kay but I’m right.”

_”Can’t argue with that._

”Nope… Go to bed. And stop bein’ such a stranger.”

_”I will. I missed this.”_

”Yeah, me too. Now seriously, goodnight.”

_”Goodnight, Ryuji.”_

The line went dead on the other end, leaving Ryuji alone in his room again. Another car drove past. The blonde curled over on his futon, finally feeling the weight of sleep on his eyelids.

Ryuji smiled, holding his phone firmly in his hand. What a good night it was.


End file.
